


Drive

by KittenKin



Category: Shiritsu Horitsuba Gakuen
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Incest, M/M, Romance, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenKin/pseuds/KittenKin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know him better than anyone, but he still surprises you sometimes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive

You know him better than anyone, but he still surprises you sometimes.

He announces another driving lesson after you're done drying off the last dinner plate and you blink and protest, having been indulging in daydreams of pulling the curtains shut and pulling him down onto the couch to not-watch a movie. Your whines are ineffective, however; Yuui is determined to fulfil his promise to teach you how to drive and he goes into a speech about how driving at night is an entirely different thing from driving during the day.

He continues explaining the differences while bringing you your favorite windbreaker - his - and grabbing the coffee club card off the refrigerator and searching for the keys, and you forget to listen as the pleasant warmth of being loved and cared for and _known_ steals over you. He finally finds the keys - right in your sneaker where you'd left them for some reason you can't remember now - and fixes you with a fondly exasperated look which changes slightly as he sees the way _you_ are looking at _him_.

You think that if he walks over to you now, then he's yours for the night and there won't be a driving lesson. Instead there'll be a fumbling, breathless tour around the house to ensure that the door is double-locked and chained and all the windows are sealed and curtained, and the television or stereo turned up loud to cover up any accidental noises because no matter how frightened you are of being found out - _never be separated again, never, never, you'll die next time_ \- he's too good and you're too in love to always remember to be quiet.

But he resists the lure of your heated, promising gaze and walks to the door, smiling at you in a way that lets you know that he knows what you're thinking as he jingles the keys at you. You smile and give in without further protest or attempts at sabotage, and he rewards you with a soft, sweet kiss in that safe corner by the door where there are no lines of sight from any window. It's just a quick peck, really, but it lasts long enough for you to feel his breath on your face and for your heart to break over how much you _love_ and _need_.

You began as a single cell fired by a single spark and every moment that you spend apart feels wrong. You can't survive without food and water and air but you can't _live_ without feeling his warmth against your skin and knowing his attention is focused on you. You've laughed and cheered and sung all your life but it's only air and noise and music if he's not there. He brings the spirit and soul; without him you are only a shell, and you don't care what the world thinks.

The harsh, hurtful words that would be applied to you both if anyone found out that your bedroom is just for show and his bedroom is really yours too don't even mean anything to you. They're just noises made by people who don't know what it's like to have your soul cleaved into two before you were born and then spend all the rest of your air-breathing days striving for completion and unity. Yuui's opinion is the only one that matters and he loves you as wholly and completely and utterly as you love him, and has done so for just as long. No one else would understand. He's all you have. He's all you need.

You part from him and you both take a breath, settling yourselves back down before opening the door and exposing yourself to the world's eyes. Perhaps no one is looking, but then again perhaps someone is, and you both agreed long ago to never take any chances with this fragile happiness. And so the hyper but harmless chemistry teacher follows the serious but gentle home economics teacher outside and down the stairs and into the carport, and while they smile and banter and nudge each other, that is all they do. There are no long looks from under lowered lashes, there is no lingering touch on a wrist before they part at the bumper of their car, and there is certainly no indication that one of them is gamely wrestling down the urge to bend the other over the hood of the car.

The night is balmy and dry, and all the windows are soon down and the breeze helping to blow away the faint ache and regrets for what you cannot have, only leaving you a warm glow of affection and gratitude for what you _do_ have. You talk of work together, of the antics of favorite students and the complaints of favorite co-workers, of projects coming up and of memorable events long past, the driving lesson on hold until you're out of the drive-through of your favorite coffee shop. The stinging spiciness of chai mingles with the decadent sweetness of your mocha and the steamy scents drift past your nose as he puts the car back onto the city streets.

He is teaching you how to drive, but each new lesson begins with him behind the wheel, giving a mini lecture on everything you need to know and why you need to know it. Sometimes these first lecture-lessons have to be repeated a few times because it's so hard for you to pay attention to what he's saying if you happen to be in a particular mood. And proximity to your twin combined with the sense of freedom that comes with driving around together with no one else in the car generally puts you in that mood.

Yuui speaks of night blindness and high beams and joggers with a penchant for dark track suits and you listen obediently while taking little sips of your coffee, knowing that you shouldn't waste his care and concern. But then he takes a drink of his tea and the tip of his tongue darts out to catch the drop left hanging on his bottom lip and you're done for. He points out some careless manoeuver by another driver but all you can focus on now is his mouth, not the sounds coming out of it. That lazy desire that was kept smoldering nicely suddenly sparks and flares and you regret not trying harder to keep him inside tonight.

As if he can feel the need radiating off of your body he begins darting sidelong glances at you and each little look is like a static shock, kicking your heart rate up and making your breath catch in your throat. He's beautiful, sitting there with the wind blowing a fine flush into his cheeks and stirring his sunsilk hair all about his face, a soft, knowing smile lingering about his lips, silent now because it's just too obvious that you're not paying attention to his lecture.

You keep your hands to yourself because there are still traffic cameras and drivers sitting high above you in trucks and buses, but you can look all you want, now. Yuui's smile grows as you just sit and stare and smile, too. The miles slip away and looming trees replace the glittering buildings, he plays around with the radio and you both sip your drinks. The air grows colder but he doesn't roll up the windows, only turns on the heater to warm your feet, and you think it's perfect; this warmth and chill, this being together and yet not being able to touch. He deftly toes his shoes off, one after the other, and wriggles his sock feet in the warm air rushing out of the vents. You do the same and purr at the sensation, and then purr some more when it makes him laugh.

You're so completely captured by the moment and this person that you don't notice where you end up, only coming blinking out of your trance when he parks the car and then looks at you with amusement suffusing his face. You look around and he chuckles at your surprise at finding the car parked in some tiny, time-shattered concrete lot surrounded by trees so tall you have to stick your head out the window to glimpse the stars peeping down at you between the close-growing evergreen tops. The lot is deserted save for you two and while you can glimpse what seems to be a few picnic tables under the trees, you can see nothing else.

"You have no idea where we are, do you?" he prompts with an expectant air.

"No," you confess, with a slightly apologetic laugh. "Where are we?"

And then his smile changes and it makes your heart leap. It's full of meaning but you're not quite sure about the details, and it's amazing how you know him through and through and yet he can still present you with a mystery.

"We're nowhere," he says quietly, and then before you can ask, he's leaning across the parking brake and pressing his lips to yours. Your brain wasn't expecting it but your body leans eagerly into him as if it's been anticipating this moment all evening, and it's perfect perfect perfect. Your own tongue tastes of chocolate and coffee and his mouth is hot and spicy and sweet, and it just makes you want to devour him. You unbuckle yourself hastily and hear his own seatbelt give way, but when you try to sit up and away from your seat in order to get your arms around him he's pushing you back insistently and you let him succeed.

Sometimes one of you will claim dominance and the other will submit, sometimes you wrestle for tops, and sometimes you take turns. Tonight, Yuui is ascendant; you both feel it thrumming through the kiss and searing through clothing everywhere you touch. While you were trying to lure him to the couch, he was burning for you just as badly, and only being more patient about getting exactly what he wanted. And what he wants is you, and it sends thrills of pride and humility and awe tingling along every nerve, and you can barely breathe because your heart is swelling so much and crowding out your lungs.

He breaks out of the kiss to murmur against your lips and tells you to move your seat back, and this time when you lean forward he lets you. The seat slides back with a noisy rattle and clank, and he's crawling over into your lap almost before you've sat back up. He pins you to the headrest with a firm kiss and you cup his face in your hands, your heart bursting and lungs burning and the rest of you filled with such a sweet, sweet ache. Oh, how you need him, want him, love him. And when he gasps against your mouth and you feel his hands trembling against your chest, you moan and shiver at knowing how badly he needs and wants and loves you too.

His jeans come off but that's about it. Everything else is merely untucked, unbuttoned, rucked up or shoved halfway down. Despite having an apartment to yourselves it's been a long time since the last time, what with work and school festivals and plays and Kurogane over for dinner nearly every night, staying late despite continuous protests that he had better things to do than waste his time hanging out with idiots like you. You've both been busy and tired, but now you're alone in the middle of nowhere and feasting on each other like there's no tomorrow.

He digs a foil square out of his discarded jeans and if you could get any harder you would at knowing he drove to this secluded spot on purpose. That he got dressed with this already in mind. That he was thinking of making love with you while telling you what he was making for dinner tonight.

"Got anything else in there?" you ask as playfully as you can despite a throat gone dry at the sight of him tearing the packet open with his teeth. He _piffs_ the strip of foil away from his lips and eases the condom out of the package before answering your question about lubrication.

"Don't need it," he replies off-handedly, and you can't find the words to argue at first because he's rolling the latex over your aching length and you can't even remember your own name for a moment. You remember his, though, and gasp it as you clutch at his bare hips. When the first wave of sensations rolls past and your brain stumbles shakily out of the surf you lift one hand to his lips, but he smiles that smile again and threads his own hand together with yours and pins them by your temple, against the headrest.

"Yuui?" you ask, a bit confused. You need to prepare him and if he didn't bring anything and it's not going to be with spit-slicked fingers, then what? He's no masochist and you're no sadist; the condom is lubricated so you wouldn't be going in dry, but zero to sixty is _not_ how you plan to stretch him. Your eyes widen a bit in surprise and a bit of alarm as he grabs the seat back with his free hand and raises himself above you, fighting the way you grip his hip to prevent him from hurting himself.

"I need to--"

"No you don't," he interrupts a bit breathlessly, and sinks down ever so slightly. You gasp at even this light, nudging contact and it's shameful how weak your arms are right now. He's got you effortlessly pinned with just one hand and that smile and that intent gaze, and each careful, seeking rock of his hips tears a whispery gasp from your throat. And when you feel it happen, that sudden rightness and fit, the pause and tight pressure, you make one last effort.

"You're going to hurt yourself," you protest, pleading with your voice because you both know your body's betraying you and won't help you in this fight. That stops him, and he lets that strange smile slip and fixes you with a long, serious look.

"I wouldn't do that to you," he says, and you know he's never lied to you so your hands relax even while you still don't understand. He smiles again and it's pure love and affection in his eyes as he leans in to kiss you. Your eyes flutter shut and your hand leaves his hip to thread into his hair, and the tender caress lasts so long that you're trembling by the time he finally breaks away with a ragged breath against your lips. Blue eyes lock on to yours and time seems to suspend for a moment in the close confines of the car in the middle of this secluded, starlit forest.

His breathing evens out while he gazes at you and you're both already tense and trembling, so there's absolutely no warning before he suddenly _drops_. His gasp is almost lost in your strangled scream, but you still hear it, and somewhere in the scarlet scorching firestorm of pleasure searing its way through your gut and up your spine you know he's all right. He doesn't even let you recover; he's moving again with a throaty groan before you can fully drag in your next breath and when you realize - when you _realize_ \- you almost come with his second purposeful fall into your lap.

He's right; he didn't need to bring anything and you didn't need to do anything. He'd already done it all himself. That's why he asked you to do the dishes for him. He wasn't just shampooing the smell of garlic and onions out of his hair and off of his skin as he'd claimed to be doing. While you were clearing the table he was in the bathroom, wearing nothing but that secretive smile. While you were washing the dishes he was stretching himself with that bath oil you can now smell underneath the chai. While you were wondering at your chances of snuggling with him on the couch, he was planning on luring you out into the forest and fucking you through the floor of the car.

You are _never_ selling this vehicle.

He doesn't let up for an instant and there's no keeping up with him, no matching his pace. All you can do is hold on to his hand like it's a lifeline and claw desperately at the small of his back as he slams his body down onto you over and over and over. He's all fierce determination and inexorable love and fire and drive tonight and it's all for you and you let yourself be consumed; a willing sacrifice on the pyre. You may be the one piercing him but he's on top in more ways than one. This is his night and you're just blessed that your pleasure completes his.

And that pleasure is undeniable and overwhelming just by itself, but with the knowledge of how he's plotted and planned this little tryst added onto it, you're surprised that you manage to last as long as you do, which isn't very long at all. With one last choked cry of his name you arch against the seat and pour yourself into his blazing hot body; your seed, your essence, your very soul. You feel as if you've literally emptied yourself out into him but he's there to hold you up and fill you with his love and presence, so you lose nothing and gain all.

Through the fog of completion you notice he's still hard against your stomach, and while you're trying to convince your hand to pick itself up and do something about it, he's squirming and reaching down and suddenly you're falling with a startled yelp as he yanks on the lever that controls the seat back. The next sound out of your mouth is a drawn-out groan as he crawls up your body a bit and you slide out of him. And then there are no more noises as he heatedly kisses you, hot and wet and hungry against your lips. He rocks against your stomach and then your teeth are ringing with his needy moans as you press your hands against his back to bring him harder against you and arch up off the reclined seat to give him even more pressure.

He's suddenly the needy one, begging and whimpering and helpless in your arms, and you give him what he wants - _needs_ \- and exult in the fact that you are the one, the only one, who can give it to him. You draw him close and move with him, slow and sweet and sure. He lifts his face and you kiss him deeply, loving the taste of tea and sweat and lust, and then you kiss him on the cheek and tell him you love him and hold him tight as he spills himself between you with a strangled sob against your neck.

You both fall asleep - okay, pass out - despite a faint, lingering fear of being found like this by a park ranger, and you wake up laughing when his watch alarm goes off sixteen minutes later.

"You thought of everything, didn't you," you chuckle. "Did you bring a towel, by any chance?" At this point you wouldn't be surprised if he told you to reach back into the back seat where he's left a nice fluffy duck-print towel for you to use. But instead he laughs lightly and asks a question of his own.

"How many shirts am I wearing?" And you look and see that he's wearing a mock turtleneck (rucked up almost to his collarbones) plus a button-down shirt over that (hanging off one shoulder and practically tangled into a knot in the back), and you laugh again and decide that he deserves some sort of award. Most OCD lover in the world. The turtleneck is pressed into service as a towel, him first and then yourself, the condom is knotted up and drowned in the now-tepid mocha, and then you readjust your seat and watch him fondly as he struggles back into his jeans and buttons up his remaining shirt.

You both settle into your seats comfortably and just stare for a while, basking in each other's presence, enjoying how satisfied your other half looks. After a while of thinking contentedly that this is heaven and that you don't ever want to go back, the yearning almost becomes pain again. Life is busy and there are so many _eyes_ around you. You wouldn't trade this love for the world but you feel like you'd give anything to be able to live freely and openly with this beloved person for even just one day.

"I don't want to go back," you say softly, letting yourself speak it aloud because you can tell from the look on his face that he already knew where your thoughts had led. And then he smiles that smile again and you know he's not done with the surprises.

"I booked a red-eye," he murmurs. "Our bags are in the trunk and Yuuko-san signed off on the time off requests. I signed yours for you, by the way. Kurogane-sensei's going to feed the fish."

You just stare.

"A week. By the beach. It's a twenty-hour flight, two stops, and when we land...no one will know who we are, and no one will care." His smile is wistful now, and you know that he's been feeling the same pain, the same longing, the same mix of frustration and gratitude. You both need a vacation from the world, from work, from even your friends. A little respite, and breathing room that lasts for more than a stolen hour here and there.

"Want to go?" he whispers, as if there could be any question about it, and he suddenly looks like a little boy again, hunched in his seat and watching you with softly subdued eagerness and anticipation. You breathe out a faint laugh and clasp his hand and tug him over for a kiss.

"Yes," you whisper against his lips, and this time when he smiles, there are no more surprises; just a sweet satisfaction. He's made you happy, and that makes him happy, and that makes you happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt at the CLAMPkink community on Dreamwidth:  
>  _Yuui teaching Fai to drive, pulling over for making out/sex in the car, always having to hide away and snatch moments together. Angsty fluff._


End file.
